


Not a Word

by C_C



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Swearing, Third Party POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2012-09-28
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_C/pseuds/C_C
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bad night on patrol</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Word

What a fucking night, two domestic disturbances, a stupid fucking rookie drug dealer, and now a hooker. In this neighborhood, in the middle of a freeze-your-balls-off cold snap in January.

But it has to be. No other plausible explanation for a car parked in a dark alley with it’s windows entirely fogged over at this hour of the night.

Hopefully it’s not another transvestite. One more trannie on my watch and I’ll get a nickname for sure. And my coffee’s gone cold now for Christ’s sake. A hell of a night I tell ya.

Nice car, real well looked-after, too bad impound tends to be hell on body work.

“Sir, roll down your window sir,” Maybe a little louder than strictly necessary, sure, but it’s cold out here. I want this over with.

The window opens after a second. The guy is a tousled mess but it doesn’t seem like he just fumbled his jeans back up. He hisses, “Keep it down would ya!” Awful snippy for a guy who just got a hummer too.

“I‘m sorry sir-” He holds up a hand to silence me but it’s not necessary. Cause I just caught sight of the other occupant of the car. A guy, but not a trannie. A Mountie. A fucking Canadian Mountie in full uniform. And _he_ looks flustered as hell. So either this guy is into some weird shit and I’ve got the weirdest prostitution bust in weeks or this is going to be one hell of a lewd and lascivious collar.

Which of course signals the point at which my night becomes truly surreal.

The guy in the driver’s seat is holding out a badge, “Vecchio, out of the 27th, we‘re on a stake out here. Didn‘t you get the bulletin at your shift briefing?”

I must stand there staring for a full minute, “Sorry Detective. I didn’t realize that you were positioned on _this_ street.” I managed not to sound too apologetic. I didn’t exactly fuck up. I just… misjudged. How was I to know the guy was blowing his partner?

Seeming to read my mind he smirks, “Fresh coffee, screwed with the windows.”

I nod. I can act like I don’t know. Sure thing. “I‘ll be in the area if the bust goes down, so you‘ll have back-up if you need it.”

“Greatness,” Vecchio smiles, “Look it‘s really damn cold so if you don‘t mind I‘m gonna put this window back up now.”

“Sure. Sorry ‘bout this,” I mutter and high tail it back to my black and white. I always heard weird shit about the 27th but that is just too much.

Worse than another trannie hooker. A cop blowing a Mountie during a stakeout. The boys back at the squad aren’t going to believe a word of this shit. Not. One. Word.


End file.
